“Yes.”
“Then come along.”
“When?”
“Now—as soon as you like. I had a good mind to send to you to come to my house, thinking you might not venture up here in the wind. But as I like getting out of doors, I thought I would come and see first.”
“It was my own thought.”
“That shows we shall agree. Then can you come to-day? My house is so hollow and dismal that I want some living thing there.”
“I think I might be able to,” said the girl, reflecting.
Voices were borne over to them at that instant on the wind and raindrops from the other side of the wall. There came such words as “sacks,” “quarters,” “threshing,” “tailing,” “next Saturday’s market,” each sentence being disorganized by the gusts like a face in a cracked mirror. Both the women listened.
“Who are those?” said the lady.
“One is my father. He rents that yard and barn.”